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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27974048">mistletoe</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/loupettes/pseuds/loupettes'>loupettes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, F/M, Fluff, Jealousy, Mistletoe, Snow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:02:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,931</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27974048</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/loupettes/pseuds/loupettes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Nothing ordinary about you, Rose Tyler, and certainly nothing ordinary about the way I feel about you.”</i>
</p><p>Ten x Rose. Fluffy fluff with some Christmas fluff. 31 Days of Ficmas prompt <i>Dec 11: Mistletoe.</i> [NOW COMPLETE]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>76</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. part one</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>31 Days of Ficmas prompt: Mistletoe</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Where’s he run off to now?” She muttered to herself. Her eyes snapped automatically over to the buffet table and she was more than surprised to see he wasn’t there. She craned her neck, scanning the crowd for a lump of hair and she found it, over in the corner. </p><p>“Ah-ha!”</p><p>She made her way through clusters of people; they were at her Aunt’s, as they usually were the weekend before Christmas. This year, though, not <em>only </em>had the Doctor managed to be persuaded to get her back here on time - or at least not regenerate and send her to Christmas Eve as a “present” - he’d come with her. It had taken a <em>lot</em> of persuading, a few homemade gingerbread men and some very warm smiles on her end before he finally caved. He wasn’t all that amused nor excited, but he had managed to put on a new suit which was in itself a feat. She tried as hard as she could to not whimper when she first saw him - considering the man wore a suit every damned day, she had no business getting flustered over him in a new one, all black and tailored to his slender frame - <em>stop it. </em></p><p>Perhaps she had been a little hopeful when putting on her dress tonight; a little low-cut, strappy sleeves, bit of leg showing when she walked thanks to the discreet slit in the side. He of course barely bat an eye when he wandered to her bedroom to see what was taking so long. It had put her in a slightly disheartened mood, to say the least, but it was Christmas and it was harder to feel down when everyone around her was so full of festive cheer.</p><p>That was until she saw him standing in the corner, alone, with her friend, Marie. </p><p>Now, Rose had recently learned to trust their relationship. It wasn’t love that he felt for her in the same way she felt for him, but it was some kind of love. A love of her, she supposed. And she’d accepted that was as good as it was going to get with a man not quite interested in relationships and kissing and all that. But then she saw the way he was looking at her friend, how low cut <em>her </em>dress was and she could feel herself getting rather pissed off. </p><p>Rose’s go-to these days it seemed, when she was jealous, was to shut down. Avoid. Push away; gone were the days when she’d be catty and possessive. He wasn’t hers, and he never would be because he just wasn’t interested in <em>her</em>. She could wear all the sexy dresses she owned, flirt the pants off him but he would never see her that way. A mate, she was. She couldn’t look at them, especially not him and the way his smile didn’t look uncomfortable in any way, so she slipped through the crowd once more and headed for the door. </p><p>The cold air hit her instantly and it was a welcome refreshment. <em>Don’t cry, for god’s sake don’t cry. </em>She leaned over the balcony, listening to the crowds of other Christmas parties in the flats nearby. </p><p>Couldn’t a girl have <em>one </em>cliché Christmas moment? A lingering gaze, a charged <em>“Merry Christmas”?</em> She wasn’t looking for any declarations of love in a Portuguese restaurant or a snog with Hugh Grant behind the back of a school stage but just a little bit more than all this flirting that lead nowhere. Christmas was her favourite time of year by a long shot, but each year was becoming more and more of a disappointment. </p><p>
  <em>Stop setting expectations, then.</em>
</p><p>“There you are.” He was peering around the door and she gave him the most convincing smile she could. “Are you not chilly?”</p><p>She shrugged. “Was getting a bit too hot in there.”</p><p>“You coming back in?”</p><p>“Surprised you’re not the one escaping,” she said. Must be Marie. Oh my god, he fancies her. If he wasn’t with Rose he’d be asking <em>her</em> to come with him. She could quite happily go downstairs to her mum’s, crawl into bed, lock herself away and <em>cry. </em>Was it an overreaction to stop travelling with him altogether? To tell him she’s grateful for everything but she’s going to go home now and then just never leave that bed? </p><p>
  <em>No, now come on now Rose. Pull yourself together, this is pathetic. </em>
</p><p>His gaze narrowed at her. He decided that whatever he saw was enough for him to slip outside entirely, closing the door behind him. “What’s wrong?”</p><p>“Nothing!” she defended, flashing him a more confident smile now. He smiled in return, one of those brilliant grins he had. “Just wanted a bit of space. Go back inside, honestly I’m fine.”</p><p>His grin faded. “Hmm. Don’t believe you.”</p><p>She cocked her brow, about to come back with something witty as always, but falling short of something to say. </p><p>“Okay, now I <em>am </em>worried.”</p><p>She scoffed. “I’m more worried for <em>you</em>, so eager to get back inside. What’s got you so keen?”</p><p>“Oh, I dunno. S’not that bad actually.” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. <em>Mmm,</em> <em>I bet it's not.</em> She could feel the prick of tears forming, so she leaned back over the railing, gazing out at the flats donned in their Christmas lights. She heard him shuffle behind her. She half expected him to have given up and gone back inside, but she felt the cool silk of his jacket as he draped it around her shoulders. “What is it with you lot not wanting to dress for the weather?”</p><p>She shrugged, not pulling his jacket around her tighter. Somewhat reluctant to do so. “S’just nice to dress up. Don’t get to do it all that often so don’t wanna hide it all under a big jumper.”</p><p>He nodded, leaning over the railings himself. “Suppose I can understand that.”</p><p><em>Well that’s a relief</em>, she snapped back internally. </p><p>“Well, I’m glad I got to see it. That dress. Well, you wearing the dress.” She watched him out of the corner of her eye; he didn’t falter, he wasn’t looking awkward or twiddling his thumbs. Not like he was making a brave move by telling the girl he fancied he thought she looked nice. Only looking ahead. “You look lovely.”</p><p>She warmed a little too quickly. She allowed herself to bask in it for a moment; she had been feeling utter shite this evening and she deserved a little pick-me-up. But that’s all it was. An innocent, no-nonsense comment. </p><p>“‘<em>And so do you, Doctor, very handsome’,</em> ‘why thank you, Rose, it’s a new suit.’”</p><p>She smiled despite herself. “I’m sorry, didn’t realise this was an eye for an eye thing.”</p><p>“It’s not. Both eyes on you tonight, promise.”</p><p>Her cheeks were hot; sometimes they joked about their relationship with each other like this. They acted like a married couple, so they would quite often refer to each other that way as a laugh. <em>"Must keep the wife happy,"</em> he'd tell others. <em>"Rose Tyler, and this is Mr. Tyler,"</em> she'd introduce them. They had actually been married, several times, in several different galaxies. <em>The best of friends</em>, she thought bitterly. Comfortable enough to joke around with each other about being in love, when she was so painfully in love with him for real. “Looked a bit like they were on Marie.”</p><p>He nodded slowly, understanding. “Ah.”</p><p>She waited for him to say something, then she sighed. She knew he didn’t like this on her, this jealousy. He’d never said it, and she had long since stopped - well, at least being possessive about it. It <em>was</em> getting a bit silly, to be fair. But part of her thought his irritation with it was because she had nothing to worry about. But then she thought, perhaps, and most likely, he was irritated because he wasn’t hers to be possessive over. And she’d rather he enjoy her company tonight, even if it wasn’t as close as she’d like it to be.</p><p>“Sorry. Marie’s lovely, she is. One of my closest mates. Used to hang around town after school, always end up in Costa to check out boys and take that week’s Cosmo quiz. She always went caramel latte and I always went vanilla. The baristas knew our order - we used to joke that we always wanted to go somewhere where they knew our order by heart, just so <em>us</em> for that place to be Costa on Blackfairs Road.”</p><p>It had felt like so long since she’d hung out with her mates. True, once they’d left school, and a couple had gone on to college or sixth form, she didn’t see much of them anyway. But they still had nights out at the pub, a couple of nights in much more revealing dresses than these ones in Soho. She smiled. “God, Christmas a few years back, <em>such</em> a laugh. I’d just broken up with Jimmy and Marie and Shareen took me out, girls night out and all that. We were all single at the same time, which was rare! Anyways, we went <em>the Fridge</em> and Shareen got absolute hammered - god she was a <em>mess</em>! Me and Marie had to try our best to look after her but she kept insisting she wouldn’t leave till all three of us pulled, but it was Christmas y’know, so pubs and bars and clubs were like soaked in mistletoe, so we was just tryin’ desperately to find someone under it and get out and get into our pjs and watch <em>Bridget Jone</em>s. I ended up snogging this right weirdo - the only kiss under the mistletoe I’ve ever had turned out to be with a guy called Simon, and let me tell you - Simon was <em>slobbery</em>. Marie though, she couldn’t shake this guy. He ended up texting her around about the time Bridget shows up in that bloomin’ awful gold dress telling her he thinks he’s met <em>The One</em>. Was bloody hilarious - we ended up spending the rest of the night holding back Shareen’s hair as she chucked up the night while composing this text to gently let down this man who thought he’d got love all figured out with a girl he’d snogged under the mistletoe in a club in central London holding a Jäger Bomb.”</p><p>She relived those days; the more she remembered, the smell of burnt hair straighteners and the taste of sugar overload in her mouth, the more she giggled to herself. She eventually came back to the present to see him smiling at her fondly. There’s that smile, the one she’s used to. Her body was used to it too, reacting to it in its usual way of smiling brilliantly back at him.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I like hearing stories about your life.”</p><p>Her brow furrowed and she started messing with her bracelet. “Dunno why. Bit ordinary, in't it? Got a fair bit more interesting after I met you.”</p><p>He watched her, his smile changed. Not so much a fond smile, rather… she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. More determined, maybe.</p><p>“C’mon,” he insisted, holding out his hand.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Wanna take you somewhere.”</p><p>“Where?”</p><p>“Just stop asking questions and come with me.”</p><p>“The last time I did that you took me to see my planet boil, not exactly festive is it?”</p><p>“Just <em>come on.</em>”</p><p>She hesitated, but took his hand. Of course she did, she always would.</p><p>His smile widened when she did and she rolled her eyes, although he didn’t have much time to see her do so because he’d already turned on his heel to pull her to the stairs. Excited little thing, he was, as he leapt down the stairs. She couldn’t help but laugh at his childish giddiness; it only added to her dizzy curiosity.</p><p>“You warmed up yet?”</p><p>“Na, I'm fine. Wasn’t that cold in the first place, remember?”</p><p>“Great, then give me back my jacket.”</p><p>“Oh, how chivalrous.”</p><p>“Well, like you said - “ they reached the door at the bottom of the stairs and he held it open for her, holding out his arm so she could link hers around it “ - you’re wearing a nice dress and you don’t get to show it off all that much. I for one want to be seen on your arm tonight.”</p><p>She rolled her eyes and grinned against her better judgement. She gave him back his jacket, feeling the cool air on her arms. He slung it over his shoulder and took back her hand. </p><p>It was nice, walking with him this way. Usually when they held hands, she barely had time to register it because of all the running. But sometimes they would hold hands... just because. Because they wanted to. Because they were both happy and they wanted to share it with the other, sometimes it was because one of them was sad or afraid. Mostly, though, it was because they missed each other’s touch. </p><p>They walked slowly and deliberately through the streets of the Powell Estate. Things Rose had never particularly paid much attention to had become mesmerising since she’d left with the Doctor: the blue and silver Christmas trees in people’s windows, the coloured ones wrapped around pillars, the mix of <em>Slade</em> echoing a few flats to their left and <em>Wham!</em> a few sets to their right. She looked up at the Doctor to see he was also smiling at the setting around them, a sort of calm and peace set in his face. </p><p>“What are you smiling at?”</p><p>“Hmm?” She’d caught him off guard and he lost it for a moment, that peace. But when his eyes settled on her smile, he relaxed once more. “Oh, nothing. Just, well I suppose Earth, really.”</p><p>“What is it with you and Earth?” she asked curiously. </p><p>“You mean, why do I like it so much?”</p><p>“Yeah. You always say it’s one of your favourite planets and I don’t know why. S’just loud. Bit crowded. Some nice scenery and all that, but nothing like the sunsets of Akhaten or the soft sands of <em>Florana</em>.”</p><p>He grinned, looking up at the sky. “I suppose it’s like when a foreigner comes on holiday to England and is fascinated by chimneys and white cliffs and that the busses are <em>red.”</em> She felt him squeeze her hand, sending paths of more warmth up her arm. <em>And he asked if she was cold!</em> “Just ordinary to you, but to me it’s wonderful.”</p><p>“Is that why you were so interested in my story about messy nights out at the club?”</p><p>“Oh, definitely. <em>I </em>want to have a messy night out at a club.” </p><p>She laughed. “I would <em>kill</em> to see you necking traffic light shots and try to coordinate your limbs well enough to Irish dance to <em>Fairytale of New York.</em>”</p><p>His chuckle made her wonder how she could possibly have felt gloomy earlier. It was <em>hers</em>. She’d never heard him chuckle like that around anyone else, this one he saved it only for her she was sure. She glanced over her shoulders back at the flats, now in the distance.</p><p>They’d parked not too far, and by the time they reached the TARDIS, Rose was, indeed, freezing. Her teeth chattered loudly as he fumbled around his pockets, looking for his key. </p><p>“One day,” he said in between pockets, “I’m going to teach her to open the doors with just my mind.”</p><p>“What, you can’t do that already?”</p><p>He scoffed. “<em>Nobody</em> can do that.”</p><p>Rose grinned, touching her <em>very </em>cold hand to the side of the box. She stroked it gently, lovingly, and the door unlocked. The Doctor’s eyes grew wide and his mouth fell open as he stared uncomprehendingly at the door. His head snapped round to look at Rose, then back to the door. He examined it, running his fingers along the length, pushing it open slowly. Rose grew impatient, stepping inside to the <em>thankfully </em>warm TARDIS. </p><p>“Am I going to need a coat for this magical land you’re now swanning me off to?”</p><p>“How in the <em>world </em>did you do that?!” She could only hear his voice, as he was still considering the explanation from outside the box. </p><p>“She always helps me out when I need her,” she shrugged at him, stroking the coral in appreciation when he swung his head around the door. His eyebrows were raised, still in shock. </p><p>“Rose, that is <em>remarkable</em>.” He stepped inside carefully, closing the door gently behind him and giving it one quick examination from this side too. “Nobody has ever even, I mean, how. <em>How</em>? I’ll never know.” He threw his hands up in the air in defeat. “Must be a girl thing.”</p><p>“Strong females attract strong females, what can I say?”</p><p>He slowly approached her, eyes fixed on hers and his smile softening. “Rose Tyler. <em>Definitely</em> not ordinary."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. part two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>She grinned. “Nothing ordinary about a kiss under the mistletoe at Christmas?”</i>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She pushed the doors open and, whilst the sight was absolutely <em>gorgeous, </em>it was a bit like she was waiting for the penny to drop. He’d pulled her out of a party to take her to a little village somewhere, European perhaps. It was probably early evening, although it was hard to tell in the winter exactly when in the evening it was. It was likely present day, too; the party at the Powell estate felt like it could be happening at this moment a few hundred miles away.</p><p>It was a small square - well, if you could call it a square, more like a small widening of the street as it merged into another. Thick snow fell sparse - real snow, not the stuff that he generated whenever he wanted to look fancy, and it had settled into a light pattering on the ground that only when she took a few steps did she discover was pebbled. The streets were narrow and the houses white, each door had a little porch light above it emitting a warm glow to compliment the golden light from inside the windows. The sky was an illuminated royal blue, a little greyer perhaps with the thick cloud of snow but the sun was almost set. Beneath it, above their heads, dangled densely packed wreaths, zigzagging between opposite houses of the street and all the way along it with yet more lights, soft and dim, various berries and pine cones twisted throughout. There must have been less than 7 people on the street as far as she could see, some alone and some with their friends. Their chatter was friendly, joyous, unlike the rowdy parties back on the Powell Estate. She could almost <em>hear</em> the wind it was so quiet amidst their soft laughter and murmured voices. Peaceful perhaps was the word she was looking for.</p><p>“Where are we?”</p><p>She heard him close the door behind her. “Doesn’t matter. Nowhere special, completely normal. Ordinary.”</p><p>“I’m so lucky to be travelling with a Time Lord.”</p><p>He appeared next to her with a devilish grin that she was oh too familiar with. It was the kind of grin that only made her smirk in return. He took her hand once more.</p><p>“C’mon.”</p><p>She followed as he lead them further down the street. She thought perhaps it was a high street, or maybe one of those little side streets that rivered off, because they were shops, these little houses, independent by the looks of things. They were quiet, but open nonetheless so it must be no later than 6, she imagined. Perhaps not quite present day, then, as the last time she checked her watch back on the Powell Estate it was 9. It was definitely Christmas, though, because every shop she saw had Christmas decorations in their plenty.</p><p>“What’s going on in that head of yours?”</p><p>She glanced around her. “Just trying to pinpoint where we are in time.”</p><p>“Ah,” he smiled proudly, “let’s see then. How has travelling with a Time Lord fared your sense of time?”</p><p>“Well, it’s snowing, which means it’s winter-“</p><p>“I was hoping to have taught you a little more than that.”</p><p>“<em>So,”</em> she stressed, “it could be anytime after four-thirty, if we’re at the same latitude as England.”</p><p>He brought her knuckles up to his lips, smiling against them. “Longitude.”</p><p>“That’s what I said,” she giggled, slipping a little on the floor but he had a good grip of her hand so she remained upright. Perhaps he noticed, by the way he’d have needed to support her weight, but he didn’t comment. “Plus, the snow on the floor’s a little walked in. It’s been busy, not too late that people have gone to bed.”</p><p>“Good,” he grinned. “Keep going.”</p><p>“The shops are open. So, depending on the country, can’t be any later than six-thirty.”</p><p>“Getting warmer.”</p><p>“Na I’m bloody <em>cold</em>. Sod the dress, give me your jacket.”</p><p>He scoffed, releasing her hand to undo his buttons. “I meant in your guesswork.”</p><p>“I know.” She stuck out her tongue and he pulled a face back at her. He opened his jacket for her so she could slip her arms in. “Suppose I could just nip back and get a jumper, then you don’t have to freeze yourself into regeneration number 11.”</p><p>“Suppose you could yes. You’re not going to though, are you?”</p><p>“Well, I’m wearing it now.”</p><p>“I have a theory” - he raised his finger in proposal - “you’re trying to steal all of my clothes. One item at a time. Whenever a shirt goes missing, I look for it in your room. Nine times out of ten, it’s there.”</p><p>“That’s cos nine times out of ten, <em>you’re</em> there."</p><p>She slipped her arm around his and he rolled his eyes. “Anyway, yes. Excellent deduction skills - I put us at just gone five.”</p><p>“Earth?”</p><p>“The one and only.”</p><p>“How exciting. Europe?”</p><p>“Doesn’t matter,” he maintained, his smile widening. His eyes glowed, reflecting the golden specks of the fairy lights around them and she was mesmerised by them. “Europe, Asia, America. Could be anywhere on Earth, it’s all equally <em>beautiful.</em> The snow, this particular street and how its different from the next one over, these little houses with people inside, having made a living out of their crafts and passions. Look at these shutters-“ he unlaced his arm from hers to tug on her hand, bringing them closer to one of the wooden shutters next to the windows, “-look at how unique they are. Handcrafted, not manufactured to be perfect slats. And even the houses, you see?” He pointed to them, not bricked, she realised, but rather planks of unevenly-cut wood stacked on top of another. “Isn’t that just fascinating? Someone thought to build a shelter out of wood and make the next one besides it the same, but make it differently? And better yet, make it completely differently from those in England? Then there’s the lampposts.” He pointed up and her gaze followed; the lampposts above them stood not much higher than the two of them, shaped and decorated in intricate patterns around the glass case that protected the bulb. “These ones are handcrafted. Somebody melted and moulded those little metal rods to just make a functional prop look beautiful, it gave it a character that made this town everything that it is. Not boring, not ordinary in the slightest," he countered. "You think it is because there’s another one over there. But if you look closely, it isn’t. And it’s wonderful, absolutely beautiful how many lampposts there are in the world that are all different.”</p><p>“Lampposts,” she laughed. “He’s talking about bloody lampposts. Can you at least take me to lampposts in 1701?”</p><p>“Nope. Designated driver. Unless you can secretly pilot the TARDIS with your mind too?”</p><p>“Sadly no. Not unless I want to burn from the inside out and have you die for me again.”</p><p>“See, now I might not take you anywhere out of the ordinary, but I do die for you every now and then.”</p><p>She giggled. “That’s true, can’t really complain can I?”</p><p>The snow was starting to fall heavier and faster. She pulled herself in closer to him, shivering. Her feet largely felt like blocks of ice and she felt herself disagreeing with her earlier, more stubborn self. </p><p>“You alright? You need your jacket back?”</p><p>“Na." He waved his hand to the side. "I can handle the cold a bit better. I’ve heard enough of your teeth tap dancing.”</p><p>His energy was dazzling. He really was fascinated by it all, and it fascinated her. He loved it, Earth, humanity, all of it. And she loved watching him, beaming at the details surrounding them. It was the look he sometimes gave her, like he was captivated by what he was looking at. “It really is beautiful. But if you’d have brought me to <em>Weston-super-mare</em> I probably wouldn’t be saying the same.”</p><p>“You cannot tell me that that pier isn’t iconic.”</p><p>“Fair enough. Alright, Swansea.”</p><p>“”Ugly, <em>lovely</em> town” I believe Dylan Thomas himself described it.”</p><p>She tutted. She could hear the distant sounds of carollers, very faintly. They were singing that song she loved, the carol she knew was in <em>Home Alone </em>amongst a brass band. She tugged his hand gently and he followed.</p><p>“I love carollers,” she explained. “And brass bands are so Christmassy. Reminds me of Christmas shopping with Mum or when you’d go to the Christmas markets by the Eye.”</p><p>He sniffed unfavourably. “Can just picture your mum Christmas shopping. Imagine it’s your mum on a regular day but so much more… <em>your mother.</em>”</p><p>“That an official metric?”</p><p>“Oh, without a doubt. Off the scale, she is.”</p><p>“Then you’re gonna <em>love </em>what I’m about to say.”</p><p>“If ‘love’ means ‘<em>despise’, </em>like I know it does, then just don’t say it.”</p><p>“We’re going Christmas shopping with her tomorrow.”</p><p>He groaned - a long extended <em>exaggerated</em> groan, she chuckled to herself. “See, I thought that’s what you were going to say, but a part of me was just so hopeful it wouldn’t be true.”</p><p>Looking up to see him, he was smiling beneath it all. He was different tonight, she watched him. His erratic energy had been replaced by a serenity she’d never seen. For the first time, she thought, he was completely <em>happy.</em></p><p>“I’ve never seen you like this.”</p><p>“Like what?”</p><p>“I dunno…” she began, holding her hand out to catch the snow. She watched it melt to its warmth, quickly replaced by a fresh one, much bigger, taking much longer to melt. Her hand dropped as she watched the others, hundreds of them, falling to the ground. His footprints before her already sprinkled with a thin layer of snow, erasing him. She followed his footprints with her gaze.</p><p>“See, that’s the thing. There’s nothing ordinary about this, at least, not to me.”</p><p>He’d stopped. She had too, apparently, but a little bit behind him; they were no longer joined at the hand. She looked up to see he was watching her a few meters away. She blinked, feeling the warm rush of blood flow to her cheeks.</p><p>“What?” she asked.</p><p>He edged closer to her, his fond smile turned back in to that mischievous grin of his. She braced herself for what she could only assume was about to become some sort of snowball fight, the way he was cautiously yet playfully stepping closer. He stopped just in front of her, hovering above her and he remained still; they must be linked somehow because her heart had stopped with him.</p><p>He took her hands and began to nudge her backwards, the unexpected direction in which her feet were forced to move threw her off balance. He had a strong grip on her, though, but moved one hand to her waist and continued his haphazard movements: back a bit, a step to the left, forwards a little more.</p><p>“What are we doing?” she asked curiously. “You trying to waltz?”</p><p>He laughed. “I’m not necking traffic light shots but you'll find I <em>am</em> coordinating our limbs to <em>Fairytale of New York</em>.”</p><p>She listened out to the carollers - he was right. The way he was looking at her, the fact that he wasn’t averting his gaze combined with being blindly guided by somebody else was making her practically float with glee. He wasn’t dancing - she had no idea what he was doing, zig-zagging around the street in jolted, unorganised movements but she was giddy.</p><p>When they finally stilled she froze in anticipation. His hand still on her waist, hers still holding his upper arm, she glanced around. </p><p>The snow had picked up, thicker flurries now quicker to cover the floor. They were in the middle of the street, his eyes so soft as they watched her and she looked back at him cautiously.</p><p>“Nothing ordinary about you, Rose Tyler, and <em>certainly</em> nothing ordinary about the way I feel about you.” He spoke the words softly, confidently, gently twirling a strand of her hair by her ear between his fingers as though he <em>wasn’t</em> completely nullifying her skeleton’s ability to keep her together, upright and in place. His drew his hand to her jaw, tracing down its edge and lifting her chin with his thumb and <em>that’s </em>when she saw it. Little white berries above them: mistletoe.</p><p>She grinned. “Nothing ordinary about a kiss under the mistletoe at Christmas?”</p><p>“I’ll do my best to be better than Simon.”</p><p>“Not to put too much pressure on you to be <em>extraordinary</em>, but he <em>was</em> dressed as <em>Buddy the Elf</em>.”</p><p>He chuckled softly, nudging his nose with hers. “Merry Christmas.”</p><p>“Merry Christmas,” she whispered back. The last thing she felt before his lips captured hers was his smile.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>More prompts welcome @<a href="https://loupettes.tumblr.com/submit">loupettes</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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